A Love Never Lost
by girl with the far away eyes
Summary: If I write a review, it will give away the plot. Just read, you wont regret it, and if you do, tell me about it.


A LOVE NEVER LOST

I lift my eyes up and turn my head, looking over my shoulder at him. My love. The only thing I have ever felt to what I want it is to be free of this life. My lips part slightly and I sniff back my tears. "Never knew, I could feel. Like this," I slowly breathe out to the crowd. My eyes are only fixed on his back, though. "It's like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside you kiss, everyday I'm loving you more and more," I tell him with a soft smile entering the corners of my lips.

"Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Come back to me and forgive everything," I cry out to him. Pleading echoes through my voice. "Seasons may change, winter to spring." The next lines I whisper to him, meaning in all my passion I cannot declare it in a harsher tone. "I love you." Moments later I catch the song back in my lips. "Until the end of time."

I see him turning around now, I contain my smile to see what he will respond. "Come what may," he tells me back. The crowd turns to look at my love, shocked to hear his voice behind them. They all want to see how this story plays out, thinking it is merely the play. All thinking that, all but the Duke. I can't help but smile and let out a bit of a laugh. My hand moves to my cheeks, cleaning them as he continues. "Come what may," he utters out again. I now begin to draw nearer to him, descending the steps in front of me.

"Come what may," he continues again. He too begins his strides toward me. "Come what may," he sings out once last time before continuing his ballad. "I will love you," he informs me with a bright smile plastered across his face.

"I will love you," I echo back with love set in my voice. I am filled with so much joy that he is returning to me, forgiving me for my misdeeds.

"Until my dying day," he informs me with utter truth. He would not leave me as long as I would not leave him. It was a pact written in the stars between us.

"Dying day," I finish the line with him softly. Yes, we would be together until one of our dying days. More than likely, mine. I was dying.

"Come what may," we tell each other. He finally reaches the stage with me. We turn to one another, now oblivious to the crowd. We are in our world now, none other.

"Come what may," he leads on. I slide my hands up the front of his vest softly. His warmth is very welcome below my cold hands. It feels so good to be standing here with him. Singing with passion.

"Come what may," I say back in a softer tone. My nose softly nuzzles his cheek. This is what I wanted to feel. This is what life should be.

"I will love you, until my dying." we are telling each other when suddenly we hear a scream. It is Toulouse. We jerk our heads to where we see him falling.

"Christian! He's got a gun!" we hear him screaming out. No, the Duke's grunt, he was to kill Christian. He could not do that in front of the crowd, could he? "They're trying to kill you!" he yells as he stands there looking at us. I cling tighter to Christian.

"Shut up!" Zidler yells oblivious to the man with the gun. The audience had merely reacted with a laughing.

Suddenly mass havoc seems to break loose on stage. The lights cut and there is screaming to be heard. People are running around up there frantically. I just manage, hardly, to stay clung to Christian. Moments later the Argentinean breaks out from the stage door. "Alright, no problem. Go back to work," he utters out.

"No matter what you say," Toulouse belted out these words with fierceness to the audience. One by one each of us joined and inserted our own voice, either by joining in his lyrics or our own. We each had different lives and these songs were our views of them. We poured ourselves into the words, almost oblivious to those whom were seated in front of us.

The curtain closed on our performance and Christian and I looked to one another with a smile. We were together, for how long, neither of us knew. I felt my time drawing nearer to a close, but I cared not of this because I had him. Quickly he plants his lips on my own with a smile plastered across both of our lips.

He begins to lead my, but my mind becomes clouded. Time starts ticking at a slower pace than it once head. Each step is now becoming more painful as is each breath that enters my chest. My head rolls back softly, trying to open my airway, but it is not that, my lungs have been eaten away by this disease I had acquired. My body begins to collapse backwards. He turns his head with a smile that is quickly replaced with deep concern. He grabs me and steadies me softly to the ground. His touch is the only pleasant thing I can feel.

I hear him utter out my name, helpless and in pain. I can only respond with soft coughing at first. My lungs exit through the edges of my mouth. "What's the matter?" he questions as I struggle for this much needed oxygen to sustain life. His thumb moves to the edge of my mouth and he catches a small drop of my liquefied lungs. He looks at it now with a strange realization. These were to be our last moments with one another. "Somebody get some help!" he cries uselessly to the crowd now gathered around me. I was their diamond, now shatter, now containing no value, only the memory of my value remains.

"I'm sorry, Christian," I finally manage out as I began to slightly relax. It hurts to speak, but the pain is worth it as long as these words of mine are heard. "I.I.I'm dying," I softly whisper to me. He hushed me with a shaking shush. "I'm so sorry," I apologize once again to him. I need to tell him this; I wished my time with him had been more pure and true.

"You'll be alright. You'll be alright," he tried to delude both of us with this falseness which we both know is false.

"I'm cold," I utter to him softly. The being of death dances on the edges of my view. This presence chills my entire being. Also, my clothing is minimal and exposed my skin to this freezing atmosphere that had now been created. The adrenaline had now escaped my body. "Hold me," I plead. All I want is more contact from him in my last moments.

We exchanges soft, but dark smiles to one another before I manage to speak again. "You've got to go on, Christian," I inform him. He would have to.

"Can't do it without you," he informs me gently. I see in his eyes that at this moment he truly means it, but I know he would at least live on, even if not in a pleasant life. Life is life, no matter how it is live or not lived.

"You've got so much to give," I tell him gently. He did. He had his writings, love and convictions. I do not want my death to be a hindrance on all of his passions. He should share what he was and what he felt with the world. Be as open as he wished himself to be. I softly coax his face as he breaths out his deep pain. "Tell our story, Christian," I plead with him. "Promise me. Promise me. I will, I'll always be with you," I try to make him understand. Our love was unbreakable. I would be with him until the end of time as I promised.

My breathing halts, but in once again starts. I am no longer in the Moulin Rouge. My eyes are dark and unfocused, unknowing of where I am at. Finally I focus on my surroundings. I am in my elephant. I hear a body shift next to me and my eyes snap to the figure. I am uncertain as to whom it might be. I recognize the figure. It is one held by only one man, the Duke.

My life's memories quickly floor back to reality. I was the star of the Moulin Rouge as I was in my dream, but this life had no love. I was no fool. Well, I had not met this man whom had made me a fool. Quietly I draw myself away from his body and wrap a thin sheet around my shameless figure.

I now draw myself over to the window, looking out. There was no mysterious man of the Moulin Rouge whom could take my heart. There was no figure that had been seen. I am quickly proven wrong when I see him in the light of his garret. His figure is as clear as the day, sitting helplessly at that typewriter. He knows nothing of me and shall not.

I hear a stirring behind me, but I do not look to turn around. I know it is the Duke. I hear his feet padding over to me. "What are you looking at, my dear?" he questions as she move his lips gently over my neck. His hands softly place themselves upon my sides. His touch is soft and caring, unlike my dreams.

"Nothing of importance," I reply with a pure and honest tone. I would be an actress, his actress. His star. Nothing could change this fact now. Not even the fleeting thoughts of love. I could still look at the man at the typewriter. He would be my god. Someone who I could never meet, but I would always adore him


End file.
